Do you need a rug
rethink? Does your upper west side howl in pain in unison with your
tinnitus? Are you overweight and addicted to junk food and
painkillers? Do you wake up and go to bed with a heavy hangover every
day? Are your biggest pleasures in life cheap food, cheap booze and
cheap sex? Even if you said yes to all of the above, you may still be
a much more fortunate guy than John Self. John is just a man who's
got everything he wants, but he wants none of it.
John Self is is the
colorful main character in Martin Amis's novel “Money. A Suicide
Note.” Self, a notorious commercial producer finds himself living
between London and New York in pursuit on the next big thing:
directing a Hollywood film with a potential for wild success and wild
profits. He feels like like fish in the ocean in both countries, for
he is of American-English descent. And if in London John presents a
materialistic, superficial, money-hungry new-era man with a passion
for primitive consumption, in New York he is tenfold that. John is
the producer, product and the consumer of the disposable junk culture
of the eighties. He is known for authoring scandalous TV commercials
for tobacco, junk food and pornography magazines. At the same time he
admits to being “stupefied
by having watched too much television.”
He spends everyday pursuing all things cheap, addictive, and quick,
though he's got plenty of spare time. John lives the life dictated by
his time (the 80s) where money is god, and god will get you anything
you want. Thus, his typical day goes somewhat like this
“Now
the way I figured it I had six realistic options. I could sack out
right away, with some scotch and a few Serafim. I could go back to
the Happy Isles and see what little Moby was up to. I could call
Doris Arthur. I could catch a live sex show around the corner, in
bleeding Seventh Avenue. I could go out and get drunk. I could stay
in and get drunk. In the end I stayed in and got drunk. The trouble
was, I did all the other things first.”
Although Self seems and feels at the top of the world, Amis maintains
that the experience is inevitably spoiled by [Self's] recognition of
the superficial and vulgar nature of consumption and indulgence.
People
surrounding Self also symbolize materialistic, consumerist,
status-oriented nature in various forms. John has a girlfriend. Her
name is Selina and this is the only thing about her we know for
certain. Well, other than her passion for “top-dollar underwear”
and other luxury spending, and possible involvement in pornography
which Self is so addicted to. It seems that John has developed some
sincere, meaningful feelings (an unlikely occasion for a superficial
man) for the woman; it is her presence he yearns for “during
the black hours, when I am weak and scared.”
However, John realizes that she, too, is here for the money.
He admits:
‘While
making love, we often talk about money. I like it. I like that dirty
talk.’ He goes on to realize: she does ‘all this not for passion,
not for comfort, far less for love ... she does all this for money.
I love her corruption.’
Selina is not the only woman John is attracted to, but they are
majorly similar for one feature – they present a trophy, status,
object of primitive desire. Women are mostly described as sex
objects. Several actresses are portrayed as successful, educated, and
somewhat resemble members of upper class. These women clearly
represent a trophy figure to Self. Self's “money-making” buddies
are in the same race after money, status, and luxury. Fielding
Goodney, Lorne Guyland, Spunk Davis the are all in the money
business: actors, producers, “money-men”. And they are
successful, and they exist in luxury and indulgence; but there's
little else a reader may find engaging in the nature of these
characters.
For
Self money is a deity who can take him and “his kind” to higher
places in life without having to acquire class and education: “You're
so democratic,” he refers to money, “you've got no favorites. You
even things out for me and my kind.” His kind is the new-money
crowd: cash-rich and pleasure-oriented. Their richness is limited to
their wallets, however: there is no eagerness to acquire educational,
aesthetic, or moral capital. Nevertheless, Self is constantly
striving to get closer to the upper-class members, break into their
circles. His attempts fail time and time again as he finds himself
cruising pubs, brothels, and computer game arcades. The tension
between the two classes is obvious as John comments during a
debauchery (with his “money-men” buddies) at an upscale
restaurant, “I suppose it must have been cool for people like them
in places like this before people like us started coming here. But
we’re here to stay.” Such contrast between the “new-money”
and the cultured world makes a statement that money can only take one
so far.
It
is likely that many readers will find it difficult to empathize with
John Self. Although many could relate to Self's sins and flaws,
reader will feel morally and culturally superior to the character.
But should he? Perhaps, Self isn't completely lacking deeper, more
noble, or anyhow admirable characteristics; perhaps they were
masterfully concealed by the author and may be found in between the
lines? On every page, however, Self kills any such hope with his
actions, thoughts, and confession like “perhaps there are other
bits of my life that would take on content, take on shadow, if only I
read more and thought less about money.” May some sympathy be
kindled if we realize that John is simply a victim of this culture of
disposable values? He is addicted to these values like he is addicted
to drugs. He wants to quit, but can he do that without quitting the
world he lives in? To him the only way to emerge from this hole is
to change his appearance. And that, as we discover, doesn't save him
either.
Money
makes an impression of a “love or hate” literary piece. Unlike
traditional novels Money is a work of language, not plot. It is
language, raw, vulgar, fast and furious, that carries a reader
through a rather primitive chain of events. In total, the novel may
be seen as social critique and as such it should win some
recognition. Amis masterfully exposed heavy flaws of modern
capitalist/consumerist society through the portrayal of one
unfortunate and despicable man's life.
